


Too Many Fucks About Everything

by AltaVega9



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 09:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18029075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltaVega9/pseuds/AltaVega9
Summary: Itachi is The Devil, Sasuke knows life hates him, and this blond should get out before things go from zero to sixty.





	1. Coffees and K.O.s

It wasn't a rare occurrence, not by a long shot, but today, Sasuke was out for blood. Scratch that, he wanted to capture, detain, and bleed a village dry, finishing the whole thing off by pulverizing the skulls of his victims under the soles of his extremely well-shined, Italian leather shoes. Those tiny, stupid, good for nothing, empty, shit-filled heads, he thought savagely. He couldn't believe the sheer amount of crap on his plate today. And it was only two in the afternoon. Fuck his fucking life. 

The whole situation could be summarized as so: his damn subordinates hadn’t finished the reports he had demanded over three days ago. Good thing he hadn’t been in his office when he had followed up on said deliverables or else heads would have flown with lightning fast precision. But for Sasuke to have been forced to deal with clients with only his dick in his hands while in a foreign country? Oh, they were asking for it. And he meant to deliver. 

What made it so fucking rich was the fact that five, regular reports were spread over a team of twelve. Twelve. And the end product? Not one document in his inbox. You'd think they could share at least a single brain cell amongst themselves and do the work, or else risk elimination. When Sasuke had come into his office forty-five minutes later, itching to raise hell and have fun doing so, the only soul he was able to find--and stop himself from choking--was the thick-assed Inuzuka who was making his fucking coffee in the pantry, and who had gone pale as death the moment he had spotted his boss quite literally charging like a bull in his direction. Sasuke had never seen anyone with a steaming cup of joe run backward so fast in the direction of an elevator in all his life, but fuck that, it didn't help the moron. When he was done with the fuckstick, Inuzuka had already pissed himself senseless in the hallway, dripping coffee on the carpet.

The scent stayed with Sasuke as he took the stairs; his dark energy needed spending and his legs were pistons. Breathing in what remained of the aroma, he snarled and checked his watch. Speaking of his own need for caffeine, his personal assistant was now, wow, three hours to the minute since he had gotten stuck in traffic downtown trying to get him his preferred blend. Who fucked up simple shit that much? Jesus f-ing Christ.

Now that alone would have been enough to trigger Sasuke into commiting murder and arson on a regular day, but today was extra special because he just had to be at a board meeting headed by The Devil, Itachi, himself, the smug bastard always looking every inch the unflappable, prim, and condescending shite Sasuke had ever had the misfortune of calling his immediate relation. And Sasuke, poor fuck that he was, just had to come in with his thoughts in disarray due to lack of sleep from a delayed, then rescheduled flight from across the Atlantic because 1. life just loved fucking him six ways to Monday (it was the first for the month of May), 2. pigeons in the engines = I'm fucking done, and 3. the fuck-ups that reported to him had lovingly put him at the mercy of Satan with nothing to show for because doing their jobs while he was away was just fucking rocket science.

Like Sasuke had said not too long ago, fuck his fucking, fucked up life.

See, it didn't stop there. Oh, no. To top it all off, Sasuke was feeling nauseous as hell, threatening to hurl (vomit sounded so pedestrian) all over the long, shiny mahogany table that he happened to sit at. Not having been able to sleep caused everyone to have the occasional severe cluster headache, but Sasuke was just shit up special because he had migraines. Migraines. The very type that made you want to cleave your head with a marble paperweight, said object, incidentally being at the most, only two or three inches away from his fingers and screaming to be used. Now while he hated Itachi and the whole board, not to mention, the whole fucking world, he couldn’t very well recreate a scene out of a gore movie, even if his brother deserved intensely red, wet, and copper-scented nightmares for a good half or so of his remaining natural life. He would have to save that for better, more appropriate occasions. He wasn't that gone yet. Remember Satan? Satan does as Satan is. Plus, saving face and all that shit. 

Through the drone of one of the dozen or so outrageously old, fat and stupid-looking stakeholders talking about stocks and investments for the next quarter (he was at a meeting, again, no surprise there), Sasuke’s attention was drawn to an odd vibrating sensation that synched in tune to what sounded like a drowned out piece of what could only be described as noise.

What now? Not more crap hopefully. He weaved his left hand through his hair, subtly massaging his temple as he did so. Sasuke did his best to stifle a hiss as his right hand palmed the nuisance from his pants’ pocket; it was amazing how a ringtone had just stabbed him in the eyes, as well as naturally in the eardrums.

Sasuke had to all but stop himself from shouting and flinging his phone across the room as he saw the caller ID. All the same, his eyes flashed dangerously and his grip tightened around the piece of plastic. He tapped the screen and held the phone up to his ear.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, SUIGETSU?" Sasuke said through clenched teeth, struggling and failing to keep his composure. Unfortunately, stressing his jaw like that sent a particularly nasty stab of agony straight through his head. “I’m at a board meeting—” 

“Yes, Boss. That's right, Boss. Um, about your latte—”

“I DON’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK ABOUT A FUCKING—WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

“Two blocks away, Boss. The taxi--there was a seven-car pile up, there was this drunk kid, and—”

Seven cars? A drunk kid? At this hour? He could do better than that, the asswipe. Damn it to hell, Sasuke swore beneath his breath. Because of this idiot, his head was threatening to detonate even faster, sped up by the fact that he would have to deal (read: struggle through) with his "bomb for a head" during the remaining duration of Satan's Happy Party (translation: for more than he could possibly handle).

Sasuke grit his teeth. He forced himself to breathe in, and then out through his nose. His cup of coffee would have to wait, and his head would have to bear with his insufferable existence because loyalty, damn it. Coffee. Black. From Ecuador. Brewed to perfection. The only food he would have had since yesterday. The only bit of normal that he had been looking forward to, and had just up and evacuated without a care in the world. The thought of no rescue made him even more nauseous. He needed a fucking miracle if he was to get to five in the afternoon. He needed to kill, hurt, main, or dismember something with a pulse. He would not work himself into a ball and then die a shameless, caffeine-related, pigeon-induced, moron-exacerbated death. 

Now, there still was a way to help himself. Despite his refined tastes, Sasuke wasn’t a shit snob that wouldn’t drink anything remotely resembling motor oil (read: instant coffee). Sasuke had no problem drinking from one of the carts that carried out their business outside the goddamn building, but he had also asked Suigetsu to get him a fucking sandwich because he typically did not eat when aboard a plane, the food almost always left him feeling ill, plus altitude sickness and all that crap. He needed that glorified bread thing to knock his blood sugar into gear, and then that coffee to keep him on his feet, that is to say, to keep him alert, sane, and grounded in the moment. But no, Suigetsu had to be all nice and shit and get food from halfway across the city when he heard his boss was arriving from that trip up north. 

Nice favor by a nice guy? Sasuke didn’t buy the act though. Fucking charade. This had something to do with the fact that the fuckstick had forgotten to get his best suit from the cleaners on that side of town. Again. He was scheduled to attend a dinner with some members of the Chamber of Commerce tomorrow and that particular ensemble was his go-to, a lucky charm, if you will. And he'd bet his front teeth that Suigetsu only remembered his faux pas today, because his phone hadn't alerted him, while Sasuke's had. For the sixty-second time. Sometimes, Sasuke wondered if he had messed up so bad in his past life to merit such a blessed life of suck.

“You have ten minutes to get here,” Sasuke whispered in a deadly calm; Suigetsu hadn't dared put the phone down while Sasuke racked up on Internal Rage Points. “Or you can find work right there at the damn cleaners and shove my coffee up your banghole.” With a punch of a button, he rapidly silenced the strangled yelp on the other end of the line.

Sasuke had meant to put his phone on the tabletop slowly, but in his haste, he had instead slammed it down in a mixture of fatigue, irritation, and a lack of coordination in his wrist and fingers; Suigetsu had called it "battle fingers" in the past. 

“Is there something the matter, Sasuke?”

The silky, mild, and measured malice in Itachi’s voice made him look up into his older brother’s vortexes, sorry, eyes. Despite the crash and surge of pain in his head, Sasuke glared defiantly at the son of a bitch. He bet anything The Devil had watched the entire exchange like the cat that caught the canary. He was always so fucking observant, the sadist. 

But no. However Itachi intended to toy with him, Sasuke was not going to make the asshole’s day. No, not today when everything was looking so fucking peachy. No fucking way. 

“Sorry. Hand slipped,” came Sasuke’s clipped reply. With a steadying breath that did nothing to soothe the heavy metal concert in between his temples, he turned to look at the current speaker down the table. “Mr. Okamoto, has the Operations Team greenlit the targets for next quarter?”

The younger Uchiha knew better than to engage a monster like Itachi, knew it well and good since he was all of five years old. It was not worth his time, sanity, or composure to go toe to toe with a madman. And contrary to common belief, while Sasuke wished he had in fact been bludgeoned to death already by anyone decent enough to do him a favor, he was in fact, following the whole discussion very well. It was one of his gifts. Or maybe it had been his father's "methods." In any case, he was sharp when it came to catching and using information. The old man’s eyes travelled towards him. Okamoto stared, held his breath, and then gaped at Sasuke. 

“Mr. Okamoto,” Sasuke tried again, his voice blunt. “Is that a yes from Operations?”

The man all but errupted into hives. “I’ve been waiting for an e-mail since this morning—”

Sasuke saw red.

“Come the fuck again?”

Okamoto scrambled to loosen his tie. “The servers went down an hour or so ago, Uchiha-san…”

Sasuke stood up, crackling dark fire. “I called IT ten minutes before I got to the office. You better make up a better excuse than that, you lying sack of shit.”

Ever so slightly, Itachi turned towards him, his eyes the underside of blades before they settled determinedly on Sasuke's tie. 

“Sasuke.” It was a warning.

Sasuke stopped short, but did not avert his gaze. He took a deep breath. Counted, one, two, three. His head was just about ready to break. Again, one, two, three...

Then, like a sudden bout of thunder, he heard it:

“Why don’t you have some water?"

Sasuke rounded on his brother. “What?” He had all but shouted the question as his equilibrium started to go way off.

“Water.” Itachi’s eyes were dark, fathomless pools. “You look dead on your feet. Cooler’s just outside the door to your right.”

Sasuke didn't just get it, he understood. But today was not the day anyone could cross him and walk away unscathed.

Enter contramundi mode.

A wave of pure malevolence overcame Sasuke, swirling and pulsing and thundering in his very blood. He got to his feet and straightened himself up to his full height. He let out a breath. And then inhaled. And then exhaled once more. In a split second, his fingers dove for the table, sending papers flying. Just as his fingers curled around the paperweight, Mr. Okamoto cowered and slowly inched away from the table. But Sasuke was so far gone that he did not register the man's fear, nor did he care, and instead of throwing the solid little block of white marble at the imbecile, he took aim and made contact with the window directly behind Mr. Okamoto, which promptly shattered. Before anyone could scream, much less breathe, Sasuke swiped his phone from the table, turned on his heel, and stormed out through the double oak doors behind him. 

Cowed, Mr. Okamoto dug his back into his chair, hoping to disappear, before he found his voice again. “What the—”

Seeming not to hear, instead only blinking once, Itachi appeared unperturbed, deciding at that moment to confidently lean back in his chair. He surveyed the remnants of the window with a vague expression (he should really consider getting the building Sasuke-proofed), before he noded to himself, and then did he only look back at the trembling old man. He gave Okamoto a withering, jagged smile. “You have three minutes to leave. One more than that, and Security’ll escort you out. Among other things."

“What?” Mr. Okamoto asked again, trembling like a leaf in the wind." Did you see what he--"

“Oh, I'm sorry if I confused you.” Itachi stared at him, eyes looking positively horrifying. “There are no excuses, Okamoto-san. Iregardless of Sasuke and his "little turn," I heard about the fiasco with Konoha Technology. And the deal with Suna that fell through. And Iwa's predicament due to your machinations. I'm not sure it would be safe for you to stay."

At these words, the old man looked like he was about to choke. But Itachi, cold as could be without being dead, paid no heed. He stood up, picture perfect as the day he had come into the world, and looked down the length of the table, pausing spectacularly like a menace, before speaking once more. “This meeting shall be temporarily adjourned while a foreign element removes himself from the premises. As said element is no longer connected to this company, further discussions shall only serve to be a breach of company security. And security is paramount, don't you agree?"

People nodded stiffly. Mr. Okamoto's face collapsed. He gathered his things and moved to leave his seat. There was nothing to be done at this point. He rubbed his throat. 

“The board is set to reconvene at 9:45 tomorrow morning. ” He smiled at the remaining stakeholders and the room seemed to constrict. “I expect you all to attend and to do your job. Or don't, and let's see how that goes. Good day, everyone.”

 ____________________________________________________________________________

 

As for his banishment, a.k.a. water break, well, Sasuke was too incensed to see a water cooler, much less make sense of what he was supposed to do with it. The mad pounding of blood in his ears, along with the hacking pain in his head, and the dying embers of adrenaline smoldering within him, were all wrecking havoc with his body. Sasuke was so distracted by the complete and utter anger in his veins that he had instead landed himself in one of the elevators, going all the way down from the fifty-seventh floor. That had not been the plan. At all.

The moment he reached the ground floor, Sasuke basically flew across the expanse of lobby and had to stop himself from very nearly retching as sunlight assailed his eyes (fucking glass walls). Striding out of the entrance, he winced, pained; he had to force himself to focus if he intended to find what he needed. He needed coffee. He needed a meal. He needed, damn, fuck, he needed something nice and normal for once today.

For one, very short second, the fresh air that passed through the city streets allowed him to settle somewhat. He breathed in, truly breathed in, deeply and without hesitation, then sighed. This small snatch of peace was enough for his current goal: a few steps away from the curb, Sasuke spotted a coffee cart. He all but teleported over to his god-given oasis.

Transport meaning he was sick as a dog, his hands were balled into fists, nails digging into his palms, but he would not give in. Sasuke walked with a determinedly straight back; his Uchiha upbringing would never allow him to forget what he had been taught since he could remember. Fugaku had made certain by means of a well-weathered, thick bamboo pole. Sasuke shook his head as if on cue. He could still feel the angry sting where the wretched length of "how-the-fuck-was-that even-called-grass" had marked him.

And then, there was coffee.

“Jesus, that is VILE.” Sasuke couldn’t help himself. The jackhammer in his brain was heightening his sense of smell, along with his sense of hearing, sight, and touch. The sudden scent of coffee was too much, too soon for him right this moment. 

“Well, thanks, pal. I appreciate the compliment.”

The pissed, even tone made Sasuke look up. A pair of startlingly icy blue eyes glared from beneath an explosion of blond hair. Perusing the person more carefully, Sasuke saw that the man seemed to be in his twenties. He was also on the other side of the coffee cart. Therefore, obviously, Coffee Guy. Sasuke narrowed his eyes. In addition to his while surfer dude look, he was wearing a rather loud orange t-shirt. 

On a normal day, Sasuke would strike back with a smug huh, complemented by an arched brow. But in his current sirtuation? All he could come up with was oh, joy, and kill me now please, he's apeshit and thinks he's a fruit.

The blond continued to cut him with his eyes. 

Sasuke dug in his heels. If a fight had any chance of becoming fun, it was common of him to counter with a witty retort. He rather prided himself at being an expert at verbal annihilation, in addition to body language throw downs. No dice today though; he could barely hold it together. So, starting to all but buckle physically, he said nothing instead, fished a twenty from his pocket, chucked it at the blond, and grabbed a cup from the stand--and the poor customer the man was about to serve it to. 

“HEY, ASSHOLE—”

Yes, he was one, Sasuke acknowledged as soon as the words had sunk into his brain (read: a full ten seconds later), but he was running on fumes, and he had already rushed away in a last spurt of willpower. Today was Fuck Itachi Day after all. He had to get back to the meeting. He had to make his fury known. He had to make sure Itachi did not think he had been bested. That's why he had to hurry and get out of there.

The only obstacle that remained was getting past the entrance. As soon as he approached the glass doors, however, something wet ran down his forehead, and he raised a shaky, pale hand to wipe away what appeared to be cold sweat. Cold sweat? Sasuke was surprised to find out that the entire expanse of skin was literally drenched, not to mention freezing. Feeling even more unwell, he shouldered the door open--just as his vision shook, flickered, and then completely whited-out. 

As though the Suigetsu-Inuzuka Cosmic Karma Blow had come to visit him with a vicious, instantaneous glee, coffee spillled all over Sasuke and on to the thick, black, gold-embroidered carpet. All dignity gone, Sasuke crumpled to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

The blonde knew something was up the moment the guy in the suit had walked into his peripheral vision. The raven looked absolutely wrecked and was sweating bullets, along with what seemed to be him nursing the granddaddy of all headaches. As the man staggered closer, pale hands reached for his throat; he was trying to loosen his obsidian-back tie the whole three meters it took for him to walk from the building he had exited (there was only one) to his Kurama-themed beach umbrella.

The next few words that came out of--such elegant, thin lips, it transpired, when he actually brought himself to look--were anything but sweet. Naruto all but blasted the guy with a dirty look. His coffee wasn’t gourmet or anything of the sort, but he didn’t have to be a dick. The guy had barely stood there for all of two seconds when he had all but screamed bloody murder, calling his coffee disgusting. Well, heck, he sure never heard that before, he thought sourly, so maybe his prissy ass could shove it, he actually took pride in what he did, no matter what people thought or said.

The moment he had called him out for being rude though, the man had raised his head to look him square in the eyes. The raven had deep, dark eyes, intense and sharp on a good day, he could tell, but right now, they were red-rimmed, unfocused, and angry-looking. The man tugged at his tie again, clearly distressed, unaware that he was gripping his collar and trying to rip it from his dress shirt. The piece of material he was so eager to kill had already dropped to the ground. 

That wasn’t good. 

Before Naruto could reach out--the man looked like he was about to tip over--the raven made a sudden movement. Heaving out a breath, his hand dove into one of his pockets. Seconds later, the same hand emerged. The man ceremoniously threw something in his direction. Naruto traced the trajectory of the object and watched as it landed on top of his cash box. 

It was a twenty-dollar bill. 

Now, Naruto was positively pissed. 

“HEY ASSHOLE—!!”

But the raven was too fast for him. He had already grabbed a cup from underneath Naruto’s nose--the one he was had just set down, meant for Iruka, one of his long-term customers--and strode away, apparently not seeing or hearing anything amiss. 

“Oy! Where do you think you’re going?” Naruto yelled. 

But the man did not so much as glance back in his direction. 

Naruto watched in silence, taken aback, as the man approached the entrance to the Uchiha building. Naruto froze. He felt like something extremely bad was going to happen. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

Which it did. His eyes widened with a mixture of horror and surprise as the raven painstakingly tried to shoulder the entrance open, succeeding a couple of inches, before he paused, looking dazed. Then, the man's knees buckled.

Naruto swore as boiling coffee shot forward, the raven following in the same direction. He threw down the dishtowel in his hands and broke into a sprint.

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**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone. This is a work in progress. If I get a comment or two asking me to continue, I intend to see where this can go. Please leave a line if you can. Thanks!


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